Moving on
by MarauderTheMockingjay
Summary: Sirius is dead. Tonks is plagued with the memories of her fallen cousin. Harry's false-calm covers his pain and guilt. Remus is too numb to think, ending up in a dark place. Molly busies herself with cooking and cleaning, and crying in secret. Arthur stays distracted by living in his Ministry office. Sirius is gone, and no one wants to move on. Some OOC. Reviews welcome! Multi-POV.
1. Tonks

Tonks:

Its been nearly a month since his death. To think, I was just getting to know Sirius. When he was alive, he was often associated with humorous topics, lighter memories, and happier times. Well, at least **after** Remus cleared his name. What I'm trying to say is, everything Sirius was, everything he stood for, was good. He was the type of person who could shed light on any situation with his smile. He could find the good in anyone, the Brightside of everything. He was a great wizard , and a better man. And now he is gone, now every good memory I have is either mingled with his intoxicating laughter, or tainted his heart-melting smile* [*don't get the wrong idea about their relationship. Yes, she **does** love him, but more like a sister would her brother, or in this case, cousin.*]. And it makes me sick to my stomach. It makes me sick that I can't be strong like Molly, like Harry, like Remus. I am the only one who can't get a grip and accept that he is gone.

As I pack my final belonging into the small duffel, I take a moment to gaze around my room. The same room that I first encounter the enormous shaggy black dog. It's walls were stripped bare, all of my posters and photographs removed and packed liked sardines in some unmarked cardboard box. My queen-sized mattress, once laden with soft lavender-colored quilts and cushions, was as blank as a canvas, and white as freshly fallen snow. Across from my bed is a large wardrobe, now vacant, bearing only a few abandoned hangers, is slightly ajar. I place the final item in my personal's collection, an older photograph of the Order. All of us were there. I was **loads** younger, not even fully certified as an auror! But I wanted to help, to make a difference. So Dumbledore let me. Lily and James smiling, unaware of their soon-to-come, but most unfortunate fate. The Longbottoms, still sane, glad of the birth of their firstborn, Neville. Mad-eye, his seriousness and content, slightly subdued, as the gathering of the **entire** Order was indeed very rare. He was originally against it, since if an ambush occurred, well there goes the resistance. But he finally came around, I had convinced him to do so. Remus and Sirius, smiles bright, heads held high, like nothing could phase them, like they owned the world. **Those** were happier times, even in war, those were the happiest memories I have. Many of the Order members would agree, in fact, Kingsley once told me that during a dementor attack, it was that day, that lovely memory, that saved him from having his soul sucked out of him.


	2. Molly

Molly:

Clean and cook. Clean and cook. Cook and Clean. Cook and Clean. Wipe the tears, I hear the twins. Be strong for your family, Molly. Be strong for the Order, Molly. Put on a brave face, Molly. Stop crying. STOP CRYING!

They say there are only 5 stages of grief. I've been stuck on 1.5 for the past week. Sirius may not have been a model parent (or godparent), but he was the closest thing to a father Harry had. Arthur wasn't around enough to fill James' shoes, but I hope to Merlin I could live up to Lily. Brave, brave, Lily. The Potters were the most influential and game-changing members of the Order during the Wizarding War. Not just because they were exceedingly talented with magic, but because they brought out the courage and brave spirit out of us, they reminded us constantly what was worth fighting for, and what was worth dying for. Sirius had a similar mantra, he was loyal to his friends, to the Order, to the light. Why do all of those so pure at heart, so brave, so strong and selfless, have to taken away from us. I am selfish.

Clean and cook. Cook and clean. Let the tears fall, then store them for something worth crying over. Like Sirius, not my own selfishness.

As I manage all the dishes, the sweeping, the laundry, the dusting, all I can think about is Nymphadora. I knew she took it particularly hard when Sirius was killed. He was, in a way, her rock. She hadn't known him long, since he was in Azkaban for a while, but they had grown so close. I'd call them siblings if I didn't know any better. She was coming to stay here in the Burrow to "cope". I guess my home will be grief central for the next couple of weeks, but I don't mind. I just have to use my tears sparingly. Maybe Tonks will cry enough for the both of us. I can only hope.

The dinner is on the pot simmering, the identity of the dish buried deep in the endless field of my thoughts. It smells good, the aroma is...calming. But it makes my heart ache. I know that Sirius would enjoy this no-named dish very much. Stop crying, Molly. I flick my wand and the broom returns to the closet, the duster trailing closely. The clean plates hovering over a catch-basin, to dry. I'm not in the mood to cast another spell. My wand carelessly drops onto the red plaid tablecloth, along with a few of my salty tears. The twins catch me off guard, but I manage to wipe my face clean as they come bustling through the backdoor, heading for the stairs.

" Call us for dinner, mum!" They shout in unison, as they race up the creaky steps to their bedrooms.

I'd say I've skipped ahead to step four: depression, as I allow my tears to resume their descent onto the red plaid tablecloth.


	3. Harry

Harry:

I am just about fed up with the Dursley's! They are so...insensitive! No one. I have no one to help me cope, yet I am expected to be strong for everyone else. But I guess it's the price to pay when you've killed one of the last two people connecting you to your parents. Remus hasn't spoken to me since we left the Ministry, and no one knows where he is. It's all my fault, so I guess keeping up this façade is the least I could do.

" Your no good father and his goons were just as pathetic as you! At least your father died with his dignity intact! That Godfather of yours probably died regretting the offer you ment-" My uncle Vernon started screaming at me before he found the end of my wand against his left temple. " Do-n't-you-ev-er-speak of EITHER OF THEM!" I bellowed angrily, so furious that I was shaking. My entire body felt like it burst into flames, and it took every ounce of my self-control not to redecorate the hallway with his useless brain.

" One word. All it would take is one word, and you'll never have a chance to vilify my father's, godfather's, mother's, or friends' names! Try me **_Vernon_**!" I was right in his face, which was growing paler my the second. I nearly spat his name venomously back into his pudgy face. He didn't even have the decency to look me in the eyes. I shot a look at his hand, which was tightly locked around my other arm. He dropped it immediately, so I declared this most unpleasant experience terminated. I then stormed off to my room, cluttered from letters from friends and sympathizers. I have only read one letter so far. It read:

**_Dear Harry._**

**_First off, I just want you to know grateful I am to have your friendship. You are the most selfless, loving, and brave person I know, wizard or muggle. I need you to believe me when I say that absolutely no one blames you for what happened to Sirius. I don't know if you have been receiving any of my other letters, but if you read this, please respond Harry. I am really worried for you, we all are. I don't care if it is only one word, I'll take what I can get._**

**_On another note, I convinced my parents to let you stay here for the rest of the summer. Please consider it, I think it would be good for both of us. The Burrow will already be circus, but if you decide to go their instead, I won't be upset. I just really miss you, and I know that the Dursley's probably aren't even attempting to help you cope. I want help you, you are my best friend. _**

**_If you ever want to talk, write me, or you can call. My parents built me personal phone booth, styled like Tardis, so we could talk that way. I believe I left my number a few letters ago, but here it is just in case..._**

Then she tells me that if I decide to stay with her, she'll just borrow the family car and drive here. She also wrote that if I didn't respond in the next 5 days, she would "come here uninvited, and drag me away from this dreadful place". That made me smile, but I still haven't written back. Not to worry, though, I still had until tomorrow.

**_Don't forget to reply, and I look forward to seeing you._**

**_All of my love and beyond,_**

**_Hermione J. Granger (just imagine it is her signature!)_**

I knew that if I don't reply, she'll find me here, a nervous wreck. I also knew that if I wrote a letter and denied, she'd know that I wasn't okay, and worry some more.

So I agreed upon the only thing I could think of, I grabbed my cell off of the cluttered bedside table.


	4. Remus

Remus:

Padfoot. Gone. Prongs. Gone. Wormtail. Dead to me. That filthy traitor. I haven't bathed since Thursday of last week, and today is Friday. My last meal was stolen, a greasy half-eaten burger that tasted like cardboard. My hair is long and grimy, now a strange shade of brown. My face and skin is a sickly grey color, while my eyes stay bloodshot. The full moon just passed, and even the dark hole in the Forest of Dean I call my home, is heavenly compared to my conditions when I turned.

Right after the battle with the death eaters, I insisted everyone just wait a few more moments for Sirius to return from behind the curtain. Trickery was our thing, so I knew he was pulling jokes. Although his timing was terrible, since he was battling his baboon cousin Bellatrix, I couldn't resist witnessing the grand entrance he surly had planned, for exiting the other end of the veil.

No one objected. No one said a thing, not even young Harry. They just looked at me with disbelief, as if I was kidding about the whole thing. I told them I was "dead serious" but they all flinched at that statement. I know why now. You see, my fellow Marauder never left the Ministry that night, or the next day. He never made passed through the other side of the curtain of death. He may have joked way too much growing up, and as an adult, but he had so much more to give in this dark world. The same dark cruel place that I'll do anything to escape.

I roll over in my putrid, sodden, and damaged slab of cardboard box. This brown muck has been where I rest my head at night for the past two weeks. Countless opportunities have been presented for me to replace it, but the darn thing has grown on me. Without my best friends here, and me shutting out everyone that has ever cared for me, I needed something to be constant. People aren't forever, so I mustn't grow sentimental about something as temporary and fragile as life. As I say this, that very piece of cardboard that has managed to keep me sane, is slowly deteriorating into a pile of mold, moss, and mush, as the heavy rain pours into my hellhole.

Seizing the only opportunity I may have for a while, I strip off my threadbare clothes and mildewed combat boots. As a wolfman, I know not of shame. But if I did, it wouldn't matter, there is no one around to witness my nakedness. I toss my clothing carelessly in a dug-out pit in the corner of my hobbit hole, then climb on all fours, the sweet scent of rain already teasing my nostrils. The sun was setting. Evening rain was a special treat, and honestly a luxury. When my head emerged from between the thick, moss covered roots, I was instantly drenched. It was amazing. I mustered all the strength I had, but it was futile. I was already running on adrenaline. My long arms and legs clumsily scrambled upward, rushing me out of the hole. I circled around (on all fours still) aimlessly, letting the heavy downpour rinse away all of my burdens and grief.

After about fifteen minutes soaking I searched until I found a patch of mint leaves. Since I didn't exactly have a convenience store to run to from here, that would have to deodorize me for the time being. A few more rains like this and I might actually be happy for once. But I must not wish for that. I've drilled myself not to be optimistic anymore, because the good things in life can be fractured and forgotten. Living this way is miserable, but no doubt preferable to dealing with empty promises of tomorrow. Now, all that is important is finding food for tonight.

Too many things were temporary, except pain and suffering. I have had enough of both for multiple lifetimes. That is very real, very tangible, like the darkness I cling to. It may not be desirable, but its dependable.


	5. Tonks 2

Tonks:

As I stand outside the Burrow, it's windows glowing with life, I am overcome with doubt. I can't do this. I can't hide my depression from these people, people who knew him too, who loved him too. I haven't even entered the door, and I am already planning my escape. _No. _They are my family, people I could count on. They would never have insisted I stay with them if they didn't want to help. I pull it together, for now, and pick up the last of my luggage. The rest was transported to Charlie's old room earlier by Percy. I apparated about 100 meters away from the odd assortment of stacked rooms, swaying in the light breeze. It was always refreshing to see the Burrow, since it stuck out like a sore thumb. Well, second to the Lovegood's home.

I pull my canary yellow pilot jacket off as I am let in by a beaming Molly Weasley. "Here, let me take that for you dear." Mrs. Weasley insisted warmly, reaching for the jacket. "Thank you Molly." I answer politely, handing it over. As she walked over to the coat rack, which was by the back door, I took the moment to look around. I hadn't been here since last Christmas. That was a truly memorable day, since my parents came, and it was the first I spent with the entire Weasley gang. A few Order members made it, like Mad-eye and Mundungus, but it was mostly the Weasley's, and family friends. Remus couldn't come since the full moon landed on Christmas Eve, but Sirius brought along his gifts, and we gave ours on New Years Eve. The eccentric Lovegoods made an appearance, and Luna even stayed over. Harry, Hermione, Luna, the twins, Ginny, Ron, Charlie, and I all goofed around on brooms, while Sirius and Percy alternated as commentator/scorekeeper. Molly and my mum busied themselves with preparing the feast, Fleur and Bill provided us with great Gringotts stories, and Mad-eye told us all about how he took down the infamous "Red Skull". Red Skull was a poacher with a rather expensive taste, wiping out a total of 23 species over a span of 15 years. That was one of my favorite stories Mad-eye has shared, and the occasion made it even more special.

The Burrow looked unchanged from that day, except it wasn't nearly as...cheery. This version of the Burrow look as if it was inhabited by the Stoic. The fireplace wasn't warm, yet it was blazing. The food was fragrant, but it wasn't welcoming. The room was lit, but it wasn't bright. The air was thick with grief, or maybe I was just choking down the pain in my chest, refusing its release. The Burrow was, for the first time, depressing.

The house was like a living organism, its aura affecting everything in range, just as human aura would effect it. When we were sad, everything became a tad bit bleaker. The walls were drained of color, but the house was sparkling. Molly must have been exerting herself, preparing the house like this. She came back.

"Molly, please tell me you didn't do _all of this_ for **me**?" I pleaded, staring the ginger motherly-figure carefully.

"No, dear. I was just in a very...cleany-mood. But I would have if I weren't already planning to spruce up." She replied honestly, a light smile appearing on her face. It was quickly replaced my a saddened look as she went over to stir the boiling copper pot. Her expression look pained, as if she hasn't smiled for so long, it actually hurt. That was the case for me. I was satisfied by her answer, so I just carried my trunk up the rickety old wooden stairs, leading to my new room.


	6. Arthur

Arthur:

_You can't go home. You can't face your family like this. You are a bloody mess! _The voice in my head was constantly yelling at me to put the bottle of firewhiskey down, but I usually ignored and downed three more bottles. My breath reeked, my body was in frequently battling the poison in my veins, and I have received many worried letters from my family. But I ignore them all. The bravest person I ever knew was gone, his body unrecoverable, in _my _workplace. They'll never understand that it's different for me. The pain doesn't end when I get home, because when I'm there, there's always the dread of returning back here. That's why I can't leave. The pain could be constant here, instead of rocketing every time I enter the building, it will remain at the same level, balancing my grief and sanity on a precise scale that can be altered by a missed drop of the scalding alcohol.

I wish I was dead, that I could remain behind the veil. People like me, people who lack ambition, people who don't know how to identify what is most important to life, people who can't be strong for their loved ones, don't deserve all of this time. People like Sirius, Lily, and James are the ones who deserve this life, because they proved to be the most willing to risk it all to preserve the lives of others. People who didn't personally know her wouldn't believe me when I described how bright a witch Lily Potter (nee Evans) was, and in my heart, will always remain. Anyone who hadn't felt it, would laugh when I told them that Sirius Black's smile was more radiant than the sun, spreading life and glee throughout all that cross his grinning path. Absolutely no one would agree with me that former-prankster, James Potter, had the purest of hearts, which I deem more important over blood-purity, unless they had witnessed it firsthand. People call me mad and a drunk when I rant about how they deserved so much more time, but I just continue, subconsciously wondering why I am the only living person who has noticed.


	7. Harry 2

Harry:

"Harry! Ugh, what took you so long to call me?" A fussy Hermione demanded before I could properly greet her on the phone. I took a deep breath. "How soon can you get here?" I asked rhetorically, letting out an airy laugh. We didn't talk much after, since she was bustling about to find her parents' keys. "Mum! Dad! Where are the Bloody keys?!" I could hear her riffling through drawers, groan out of impatience, and yell some more before a woman with a motherly-tone replied. "Hermione dear, watch you language and tone. The keys are on the rung in the kitchen like they always are, and who might I ask, are you speaking with...in your police box?" I could hear the smile in who I assume to be Hermione's mother's voice. "Just Harry mom, he finally said yes." Like she would even take _no _for an answer! "Ah. Well, good. I guess I could tidy up a bit, be sure to drive carefully. Remember your seatbelt!" Mrs. Granger advised in a slowly-fading sing-song voice, then Hermione returned to the phone.

"Well, see you in a minute Harry. Pack up, okay?" She had that sympathetic tone, the kind you'd give a kid who fell off their bike. I know she's just trying to be understanding about Sirius, but to be honest, avoiding the topic does wonders, for now. Eventually everything will be consumed by guilt and grief, and I will be nothing but a pile of rubble when it all goes south. I push my godfather from the forefront and tell Hermione that I will, politely.

My uncle still hasn't come up here, nor my aunt. I'm glad for it. They have no knowledge of my departure, but I'm sure they throw together a big shindig when I'm gone. Blimey! I haven't got anything to pack! They've never bought me anything, so I only have the gifts from my friends and _real _family. I hop over a pile of unopened envelopes to my cramped closet, spilling with discarded play-things of Dudley's. A rusted metal yoyo falls from the top of the closet when I creak open the door. It rolls around the wood floor and stops at a slightly lifted plank. I curiously wade through the letters to the yoyo and pick it up. When I see a something flash from beneath the plank, I toss the toy over my shoulder and fit my fingers under it to reveal it's treasure. And what a treasure it was.

I carefully lift up the opening of my secret hiding place. Forgotten gifts and trinkets lie beneath that loose floorboard, hidden away from even me. I pull up a unopened parcel from the dark hole and a lump forms in my throat. It was an early birthday present from Sirius. I don't let my hands linger on it for too long, the paper wrappings making my palms burn. Under that was a string-bound bundle of past birthday cards and letters from my friends and "family". So many great memories flooded through me that I could almost ignore the guilt eating away at my conscience.

I carefully place my things in a "spacious" bag that was charmed by Kingsley Shacklebot last Christmas. I gave him the nickname "the king" and we hit it off since then. I wish it could still be like that, but I know everyone blames me. The least I could do is be strong, but that is proving to be harder than I thought.

A pear-green 1970 Volkswagen Beetle with black hubcaps and hood pulled into the vacant driveway. I guess the Dursley's skipped town already. A party seems almost certain now. The seats looked to be cream-colored with the pear headrests, and the driver was wearing colorful-lensed John Lennon hippie shades. Hermione. I swiftly moved from my window and tossed my toothbrush and vault key into black bag from the king, along with all of the unopened letters, though I don't know if I'll get to them all. I guess I'll have all summer, and Hermione is quite the reader.


	8. Molly 2

Molly:

Tonks reminds me of myself, if I was more public about my emotions. She could be helping me cook, she could be helping me pick vegetables from the garden, she could be watching the telly, and then suddenly burst in to tears. I'd ask her if she wanted to talk about it, because it's the right thing to say, but she would always reject. Honestly, I didn't mind, but guilt has made it's way into my heart. I feel so useless like this. I volunteered our home to this girl because I thought she could use some support, but really _I _am the one who needs saving. But my hero isn't coming. He gave up on us at the worst moment possible. The man I use to know, the man I married, the man I loved, is long gone.

Tonks wants to be strong, I can tell, but who could be in a situation like this? Harry could. But even he doesn't want to be here. It's because I am beyond saving, like Nymphadora. In her, I see so much of myself, it's scary. All she wants to do is put on a brave face, because that's what is expected of her, and that's what is expected of me. It seems like the more you try, the more you fail. Then the more you fail, the more you lose. I haven't seen Ginny all summer, and I know it's because of her father. She always had him, she always clung to him, not me. And now I've lost him, because he would always know when I have been crying, when I have been selfishly grieving without attempting to comfort anyone else. That was the main reason I took on the task of Tonks, a desperate attempt to hold what was left of my family together, to show that things could only get better from here, even in as dark as times are. You-know-who is back, and death eater numbers are only increasing. Very encouraging.

In the week that has passed since Tonks arrived, only George has visited me. He came to update me on the war, since I've been tending to the off-duty Auror, and Arthur has remained at the office. He told me that a lot of shops are closing down, and he and Fred have noticed a great economic-opportunity with the rapidly public trend of anti-death eater items. I just gave him honest insight, supported by a subdued Tonks (all thanks to a calming potion), that they might be taking advantage of the desperate people. He quickly assured us that they would be credible, to a certain extent. He explained that they wouldn't actually _repel _the dark wizards, but would be mostly bent towards concealing and quick-escape items. He concluded, with a mischievous grin I might add, that they had only the best interests of the Wizarding Community in mind. He left soon after, promising a visit from Fred soon. They couldn't risk leaving the store unwatched, since Lee was currently on a summer trip with the rest of the Jordan family.


	9. Remus 2

Remus:

"James! Lily! Sirius! Wait up, wait for me and Peter!" I yelled after them with Peter in my wake. My robes were twisting in the increasing wind; that aspect of my pursuit confused me, since we were inside Hogwarts, heading for double trans-fig with McGonagall and Hufflepuff. No matter how hard Peter and I ran, Prongs, Padfoot, and Doe remained the same distance away; it was hopeless. I stopped to catch my breath, Wormtail's footsteps continued behind me. The trio continued down the unusually lengthy corridor. Suddenly, at the very end of the hall, an ominous black door with a blinding light illuminating the space around the frame. They made it to the entrance to the mysterious room. Peter pulled up next up to me then, clutching his wand with a determined look on his mousy face.

"Goodbye Remus." He said with a grin, then he charged after our friends yelling the fatal incantation. The scream of anguish that was about to pass my lips catches, choking me as I witness the murder of my best mate, James Potter. Lily let out a scream that made my blood run cold, as James' lifeless fell to the stone floor, it's echo forever haunting her mind. Peter shrieked of laughter when he disarmed a furious Sirius. He snapped his wand, then turned to Doe, who was crying hysterically over James. Even from this distance, I could see countless tears fall onto his body, and there was nothing I could do about it. My knees went weak when I heard the traitor spit harshly at the redhead, "Crucio!" and Lily's pain-filled cries for help caused my paralyzed body to crash to the floor. I fell to my knees, staring straight ahead at my tortured friend. I couldn't talk, I couldn't move, just watch helplessly. Sirius finally stepped in and screamed for Peter to get it over with, as he was nearly crushing his skull in an attempt to block out the unfolding events. After a few more excruciating moments of the Crutiatus curse, Peter killed her and turned towards a pale Sirius. He was no longer trying to bargain for his life with the rat; he stood tall, defiantly refusing to cower at his feet. "Any last words, **_Padfoot_**?" His voice was dripping with sarcasm and hatred, _where had all of this come from? _Sirius let out a barely audible growl before looking past Peter, and at me. His face was set in that defiant expression, but his eyes were shouting for me to help; to do something. When all I could do was stare back, feeling utterly useless, he just barely nodded. In a final attempt to prove he didn't fear our traitorous ex-bestfriend, he spat at his face, sporting a grin that outdid all before it, before being hit with the killing curse.

Peter disparated before Sirius even landed next to his other bestfriends. The scream that was caught in my throat pierced the darkness of my underground tree-den as I woke in a cold-sweat, my body shaking out of control, my breaths ragged and heart beating out of my bare chest. _I've failed them._


	10. Tonks 3

Tonks:

Staying at the Burrow has been miserable. The place reeks of Sirius' favorite dishes from a depressed Molly. No one is ever here, so I am stuck with her, and I know for a fact she is only holding it all together for me. The nightmares and the assaults of the memories of happier times are unbearable. I've resigned the task of resting because whenever I shut my eyes, the smiling and laughing face of my cousin, the glint of mischief in his soulful eyes, the depth of his happiness for reuniting with his "family" after Azkaban, was etched onto my eyelids, haunting and taunting me. One question though, has been lingering in the back of my mind.

_Why him? Of all the terrible people in this world, why kill a man who has been nothing but loyal, patient, and loving?_

Sirius was a man of integrity, a man of honesty, and a man who displayed bravery worthy of Godric Gryffindor's own appraisal. He constantly gave, and rarely asked for anything in return. All he wanted was to be the father that Harry never grew to knew, but truly deserved. Sirius was my favorite person in the world growing up. I didn't really get to know him well until he was brought to Grimmauld Place, and that's when he wormed his way into my heart. Being an Auror, that place was reserved for only the most important people in my life, since I could only trust a handful of people. I loved him like a brother, being that I've never had an older sibling before (or any sibling for that matter.), so our relationship was very special. After hard days at the Ministry, I would retire the day by settling in with Sirius to discuss my hectic time out in the Wizarding Society, and he'd share his ideas of ways to get his mum to shut her trap!

The terrible thing is, I don't really have anyone to talk to about all of this. Sure I could vent to anyone, but I really just need someone to relate. I don't know many people who know what it feels like to have your brother ripped out that special place in your heart, the one place you thought foolishly would be enough to keep everyone inside it safe.

Well, I do know one person. Someone who knows _all too well_ what it feels like to lose someone as close as Sirius and I were. **Remus**. He'd know what to say, how to feel, how to **cope**, because he's been through all of this before. Oh what am I saying?! He's just as broken as me, if not shattered, because the last of his true best friends was killed. But at least he hurts like I do, because Sirius was like a brother to him, too. I guess it's true what they say about how knowing you're not the only one suffering, makes it a little more bearable. I can be so selfish at times.


End file.
